


Until the day breathes and the shadows flee

by kaasknot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Scripture, Sounding, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not going anywhere," he says. "I'm here, Steve, I'm not leaving you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the day breathes and the shadows flee

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quotes from the Song of Songs. Yeah. I went there. Title from the English Standard translation, in-text quotations from the King James, which I guess implies Bucky is Protestant? I am nothing if not inconsistent.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/post/114678791039/until-the-day-breathes-and-the-shadows-flee) if you wanna say hi.

In the spent-charge silence of the morning, Steve hands Bucky the box with their sounds. His eyes are dark, calm--at odds with the tension across his broad shoulders.

"You sure?" Bucky asks, a hot coil unfurling in his chest.

Steve nods.

Bucky takes the box and draws Steve in for a kiss. It's slow and longing, as though Steve's trying to memorize the feel of him. "Please," he breathes against Bucky's lips. "I need it."

"Go get ready," Bucky murmurs in reply. He brushes his hand through Steve's hair. "I'll be there when they're clean." Steve nods and slips into their bedroom. Bucky strips his shirt over his head, letting it fall on the living room floor, and heads to the kitchen.

It's the early light of dawn. They're both of them early risers these days, a consequence of the serum; they each have their preferred activities, but there's a frisson of post-battle frenzy that hasn't quite faded yet, and Bucky knows for Steve there's more to work through this time than adrenaline alone. He sets a pot of water to boil and opens the box.

Bucky contemplates the sounds. Steve won't admit it, of course, but he's out of practice. It's been a while. He picks a smaller gauge. Not the smallest, but an easier width, one that Steve'll be able to feel without too much of a stretch. Bucky slips all of them in the water just in case, but that one he mentally tags. He washes his hands.

Outside the kitchen window he can hear honking horns and gulls cadging scraps, and the jerking grumbles of the garbage truck as it trundles down the alley. It's not quiet; New York has never truly been silent, not even when they were boys and the morning commute was to the clatter of trolleys and newfangled, guttering cars. But it's distanced by the sleepy pre-dawn light, and the air of the apartment is hushed and still. Bucky settles into it. His heart and mind are peaceful as he fishes the sounds out of the water.

Steve is on the bed, naked and curled on his side with his back to the door. The lube and syringe lay by the bed. Bucky doesn't say anything, merely walks up and strokes his metal hand over Steve's shoulder. Steve rolls over to stare up at him. They say nothing; there's nothing needs to be said. They're soldiers, and sometimes the consequences of fighting beside your lover are far from easy.

"You lubed up?" Bucky asks, and Steve nods. Bucky brushes his palm over the vulnerable line of Steve's throat; Steve bares it to him, something raw in his eyes. Bucky reaches for the lube--sterile grade, perfect for delicate tissues--and pours a dollop into his right hand, over the sound. He rolls it around between his fingers. Then he kneels by the bed and reaches for Steve's weeping erection.

"Ready?"

"Do it."

Bucky nestles the tip of the sound against the slit and watches as a shudder wracks through Steve's body. He stays silent, despite the teasing circles Bucky makes. He opens his eyes and stares into Bucky's, offering a silent plea; Bucky nods, and steadies his hand. He lets the sound slip through his fingers, a fraction of an inch at a time, into Steve's cock. Steve sighs, his hips twitching up; Bucky levers his left arm over them, to pin him down.

"Bucky," he breathes.

"I'm here, Steve. I'm right here."

Steve fumbles out his hand to clasp Bucky's metal wrist. Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over the underside of Steve's forearm.

"Need to feel you," Steve says, slurring his words as though drunk. His flush is spreading, marking out a blotchy smear over his chest.

"Can't you?" Bucky asks. He lowers the sound a hair deeper, and Steve arches his back. He groans, low and desperate. It's God's own promise, to Bucky's ear: the yearning of his lover for him.

 _I sat down under his shadow, with great delight_ , Bucky thinks into the reverent calm. _And his fruit was sweet, to my taste._ He bends down to press a kiss to Steve's stomach. Steve's hand brushes warm and achingly tender over his head. _He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love._

Steve is trembling in earnest. The muscles of his thighs clench and loosen spasmodically, fighting the urge to thrust upward into Bucky's grip; his breath is soft and ragged. He doesn't break eye contact, for all that his eyes slip closed despite themselves; he'll open them again, his irises cast in a thin ring of blue about his blown pupils, and each time Bucky meets them sparks trail through his limbs. His own erection is a forgotten irrelevance.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Steve's hand loosens from its grip about Bucky's wrist and trails down to his cock. The sound is almost entirely inside him, now; Bucky's fingers are pinched around the slender tip still poking out. He drinks in the sight of tender skin stretched around hard metal. He tugs the sound a little just to hear Steve hiss, and Steve's hand, stalled in its progress, picks back up to wrap around his cock.

"Can you feel it, Stevie?" Bucky asks. "Can you feel it filling you up?"

"God, Buck," Steve whispers, his voice thready and broken. His fingers squeeze around his own hard flesh, compressing it against the unforgiving metal within, and he gives a choked little noise that burrows deep inside Bucky's chest, right beside his heart. "Don't stop."

Bucky pulls the sound out in one smooth movement, until only the tip is still inside Steve's cock; Steve gasps, as though the breath is torn out of him. Then Bucky lets gravity drag it back in. Steve keens. "Bucky!"

"Not going anywhere," he says. "I'm here, Steve, I'm not leaving you."

Steve's gaze is hollow and deep, a look Bucky recognizes from his own face in the mirror. He draws the sound out again, and Steve's eyes fall shut in concert. His temples are damp with sweat. Bucky feels sweat pooling up at the back of his neck, under the bun he's tied his hair back into. He feels it prickle in his armpits, and down his spine. He's barely touching Steve at all, and yet it feels as though they're pressed naked from shoulder to knee.

"Don't want it to end," Steve says. His eyes are shining in the faint light.

"Gotta," Bucky replies. "Can't actually leave it in you all day."

Steve sighs, and Bucky takes that as his cue. He draws the sound out altogether and lays it on the towel by the bedside. He has to reach over Steve to do it; Steve's hands come up to stroke his sides as he does, and Bucky shudders, his own body's needs rushing back into him. "Steve," he says softly.

"Lie down with me," Steve says, and Bucky does, shaking out his wrist and levering himself so his weight is pressing Steve down into the bed. Their kisses are gentle. Bucky brackets Steve's head with his elbows, framing his face between his arms, and lets the loose strands of his hair curtain around them.

"I found him whom my soul loveth," Bucky whispers into his lips. "I held him, and would not let him go."

He feels more than sees Steve's smile, and it's the happy smile that comes rarely. His huff skitters across Bucky's cheek. "Knew you were the girl," he says, his voice thick despite the laughter behind it.

"Fuck you," Bucky murmurs back, rocking his hips down. "I was having a moment."

Steve's smile softens, and he wraps his arms around Bucky, tight against his ribs. "It was a good moment."

"Yeah, 'til some asshole punk had to come along and ruin it."

"Aw, baby, don't be like that," Steve says slyly, and Bucky pulls away long enough to punch him in the shoulder. They're both laughing, chasing away the shadows of night as dawn breaks through the living room windows, and they twine themselves together until only God Himself could bring them apart.


End file.
